REVELATiON
by Zayda Dei
Summary: One fragment of her shattered heart could only hope that any second now, he'd open his eyes, wrap his arms around her, and tell her everything was going to be alright. [KA]
1. An end to beginnings

**REVELATiON**

_un: __**a**__n end to beginnings_

* * *

All was quiet in the eastern wing.

From just beyond the icy palace walls, a fanfare could be heard, announcing the arrival of a somewhat unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome, guest. Slick metal gates opened with an eerie creak outside the frosted window, and snow crunched beneath two pairs of feet. Then, their boots met stone.

Somewhere, a heavy door opened with a whistle as the wind slipped through and slammed shut with a muffled _bang_. Footsteps echoed through the wide corridor; the same two pairs of feet were carrying their masters forward toward the end of the hall, where a single blue door remained closed.

As they grew closer, voices could be heard.

"… _so_ surprised by the news of your voyage, My Lady. _Pleasantly_ surprised, of course." The first voice was shrill and feminine, and all-too-familiar to the man behind the door.

"It _has_ been sixteen years," said the second woman. Her voice was deeper, calm and smooth. "I felt obligated to come."

"Ah, yes, well … you _would_," replied the first, and then her voice took on a frantic, worrisome tone. "I-I apologize, My Lady! That sounded … I-I don't mean to be rude, or anything –"

She was silenced by the second. "It's alright, Miss Nana. I'm not offended."

"—it's just that, I feel so anxious, what, with such nobility in my presence –"

"Nobility? Miss Nana, I'm hardly –"

"Oh, but you _are_!" The pitch of Nana's voice was painfully high. She was practically shrieking. "Surely your relationship with the late Avatar _more_ than qualifies you for the 'Nobility' title!"

An unnervingly long pause followed, in which even the _tap, tap_ of the soles of their shoes against the floor seemed to fade away. And then –

"I'm sorry, My Lady. I'd forgotten …"

Nana trailed off, but she had spoken in no more than a whisper to begin with. Yet, the speech was still easily deciphered by the man behind the door.

They'd reached the end of the hall.

The footsteps that had reemerged from the silence ceased completely as Nana and the visitor came to a stop. Here, the hallway was narrow and dimly lit by a single sconce to the left of the door.

"Please excuse the gloomy atmosphere, My Lady," said Nana, her voice still very low. "I've _told_ that boy that just one light won't do but, well … this is _his_ part of the wing, and with _him_, there's really no doing anything about it."

The second woman couldn't help but notice all the small holes in the walls.

Clothing rustled as she shrugged. "I don't mind it."

"… You think the lighting is adequate?"

"The rest of the hall is fine, anyway."

"Oh. Right."

An inaudible grunt came from inside the chamber. _Women and their pointless conversations._

Nana could be heard shuffling her feet, and it was likely she was fidgeting. "This is it," she said. "This is the room."

"He's in there?"

"He never comes out."

The guest chuckled. "I see. Well, boys will be boys."

"Hmm, certainly."

A small squeak was heard as the doorknob was turned halfway … and no further. Nana had just discovered the door was locked.

"Master Mizurou," she called sweetly. "Oh, Master Mizurou! Kindly open the door, child. You have a visitor!"

There was no answer. The silence pursued.

Then, all of the sudden, Nana began pounding on the door with her fist. "Master Mizurou! Open the door, please, Mizurou!"

Again, there was nothing.

"Master Mizurou! _Please_ open the door! You have a very special guest, and she's traveled _such_ a long way to see you! Don't you think you should show her some hospitality?"

Nothing.

"Mizurou. _Mizurou_!"

Nothing. _Nothing_! There was no reply. _There would be no reply_! The door would not open! The guest would not be welcomed! Wasn't it _obvious_ that he didn't want to see _anyone_?

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the pounding stopped. Nana's hand fell away from the door and landed back at her side with a slight _thud_. Again, there was silence, and though the one who occupied the room was quite content with silence – he thrived in silence – he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit uneasy. What could those _women_ be conspiring on the other side of _his_ door?

He stared intently at the door, eyes fixed on the knob. It did not turn. The door did not budge. Yet, he couldn't help but fear for his door, his beloved door, which kept him so secluded day in and day out. You could call it instinct, or you could call it something else entirely.

Whatever the case, these feelings of his were usually right, and this situation was no different than others.

Then he heard it.

_Drip_.

It began with a trickle, as droplets of water began to seep from the keyhole of the knob. One after another they came forth until they formed a continuous stream. Then, that stream did something quite peculiar, something that would have struck any normal human being that had never seen such a bizarre occurrence as extremely odd: it began to twist and turn until it had curved completely upward, defying all laws of gravity. The eyes watched as this magic water began to wind itself around his knob, around and around until it was completely submerged. Next, the wavy liquid became still and began to cloud over as it froze. Where the knob had been visible just a few seconds earlier was now an opaque block of ice.

Then came the final step, and the eyes widened in horror as, with a sickening _crack_, the block of ice fell from the door, taking the knob with it, and the door swung freely open.

The first woman stepped into the room – a rather twitchy middle-aged one with reddish-brown hair wound into a tight bun at the back of her head. She donned a shin-length, light blue dress covered partially by a white apron. The brightness of the apron practically blinded the sixteen-year-old Mizurou, whose eyes were hardly ever exposed to light. He'd told that woman time and time again not to wear that stupid thing, but alas, she refused to listen.

_And she calls me stubborn …_

Nana smiled. "Don't look so down, Master Mizurou!" she said, always the cheery, optimistic one. "It's nothing that can't be fixed!"

Mizurou ground his teeth together. Even if Nana might as well have been his mother, and if he _was_ water tribe royalty, he couldn't help but feel hatred toward both her and the waterbending art for doing such a terrible deed to his door.

_But Nana's a non-bender … so that means …_

There was a swish of robes as the second woman stepped gracefully into the room, her head down. She was clad in a navy-blue cloak, with the hood bunched around her neck, contrasting beautifully with her bronze skin tone. Dark brown tresses that shone slightly silver in the light were tied together at the nape of her neck, but with one tug at the ribbon, she freed them from their hold and they cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves. She looked up, and Mizurou could see her age defined by the fine lines in her skin, the dark circles under her sad eyes.

_Her eyes_ …

Deep blue irises met his own as their gazes locked, and Mizurou felt his heartbeat speed up ever so slightly. Questions began to flood his mind. Why did she look so miraculously familiar? Why did he feel so strange, so unlike himself and so like another, under her scrutiny? Was this nervousness … or was this excitement?

But most importantly … where _was_ it that he'd seen her before?

_Her eyes …_

Mizurou had never felt so uncomfortable as he did with those eyes upon him. It was hard, but he managed to remain perfectly still as he sat upon the end of his bed, on top of the warm, blue satin sheets. Oh, how he felt like squirming, or standing, or running, running and diving into this stranger's arms, welcoming her embrace.

But he quickly shoved that last thought out of his mind. Where in the world _had_ it come from?

It felt like an eternity that they stayed like that, staring at each other. Any longer and he was sure he would have begun to perspire, despite the eternal cold of the North Pole. But, alas, this moment was interrupted by Nana clearing her throat, and only when their eyes broke contact and time seemed to return to normal speed did he realize it had slowed down at all to begin with.

"Well," she began, drumming her fingers together, "I suppose I'll leave you two alone …"

And with that, she'd left the room, pulling the door to, but she needn't have bothered, for it only swung back open again.

Mizurou's eyes had followed Nana out of the room, and they hadn't turned back to the guest yet. He was not the kind of person who was easily frightened – or frightened at all, for that matter – and yet for some reason, he was afraid to look at her again. He could feel her eyes upon him, her gaze fixed upon the back of his dark head of hair; that spot on his head burned and itched, but he resisted the urge to scratch it.

No, he wouldn't budge, because the child in him thought that maybe, if he didn't move, she wouldn't see him.

But she _did_ see him. She saw _all_ of him. It was if she knew him, inside and out, and _that_ was scary.

_How does she know?_

He heard her move to the corner of the room, heard a scrape across the stone floor as she pulled forward a chair, heard nothing as she sat lightly upon it, crossed her ankles, and folded her hands in her lap. Mizurou let his head turn slightly to the right. He was looking forward now. Maybe, if he strained his vision, he could see her out of the corner of his eye. _Maybe_.

Nothing passed between them for a moment or two, and then the woman broke the silence.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Avatar Mizurou," she said, her voice no louder than it needed to be, but her tone somewhat sad. "Or, should I say, it's nice to see you again."

"What do you want?" he snapped, and his own voice made him wince. He hadn't meant it to come out like that. In fact, he hadn't meant to say anything at all. It had just slipped out, and instantly he regretted not keeping his mouth shut. He wasn't normally the kind of person to consider the feelings of others, but for some unknown reason, he wanted to show this woman as much respect as he could muster.

She heaved a sigh. "Forgive me, Your Highness," she said. "I only wanted a bit of your time. It's been sixteen years since we last spoke, after all."

Mizurou's eyes narrowed. He didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

"You _are_ the Avatar, are you not? Avatar Mizurou of the Northern Water Tribe? Am I wrong?"

The boy's shoulders slumped forward. No, unfortunately, she wasn't wrong. As of one week ago, he'd been completely aware of his Avatar status.

Mizurou was sure she was waiting for a reply, some sort of confirmation or denial on his part. He worked quickly to come up with something to say to avoid giving a straight answer, as if it would matter whether he said "yes" or "no." She knew the truth; that much was painfully clear.

So he began to say, "What's that got to do with anything?" but stopped himself mid-sentence. The words that had been exchanged between this woman and Nana not long ago were still fresh on his mind, still being tossed around and contemplated within his head. She'd been an acquaintance, at the least, of the Avatar before him, and therefore his being the Avatar had to do with _everything_.

And so, he asked a different question. "How did you know Avatar Aang?"

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "You tell me. How _do_ I know you?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"But you _do_ know," she said. "You _do_ know, because you are him and he is you, because you lived his life and he is living yours. It's obvious you recognized me when I walked through the door!" There was a slight pause before she continued, as if she was letting everything sink in. "So, _you_ tell _me_ … who am I?"

It was true, he'd recognized her. But just recognition was not enough for him to know her name, to know what their relationship had been in a past life. That was _years_ ago! Those memories belonged to a completely different person, even if they were still the same!

That much he summed up:

"I don't know."

The woman sighed again. He could sense her impatience, her frown. "You _do_ know. You're just not digging deep enough."

"I _don't_ know."

"You _do_ know!" He heard her stand, heard the chair slide backward across the stone floor a few inches. "Don't tell me you _don't_ when I _know_ you _do_! Think _deeper_. Don't be so quick to give up. You were _never_ one to give up so easily!"

"But how can I know?" He'd turned his head before he could stop himself, and now he was looking straight at her. Once again, their gazes locked, and that was all it took. Something clicked into place.

It was then that he remembered where he'd seen those eyes before. He'd dreamt about them … and not just once. It had been many times, he was sure. He'd seen them at night, his eyes closed, when all there'd been was darkness and the outline of her face. He'd been haunted by her in his sleep, by those eyes and that face and that dreadful _feeling_, a degree of cold he'd never thought possible … only he'd been _sure_ it was his imagination … a ghost, maybe. _Maybe_.

He'd never expected it all to be real.

And now he found himself struggling to remember anything that he could about her, straining to find within the depths of his soul a friendship between them, or at least a name. But nothing came to him, and out of fear, he took a stab at it.

"We were … best friends?"

Something in her expression changed. Her eyes softened a little, and the weakest of grins worked its way onto her face. "That _is_ true," she said, and his heart dropped. The tone of her voice had suggested she wanted something more, a more elaborate answer, perhaps. Then she confirmed it.

"But that's not _all_ we were, was it?"

Mizurou stood, angered by the question. "I _really_ have no idea!" he shouted. "Why is it _my_ job to do all the guesswork? Why can't you just _tell_ me? Who do you think I _am?_"

"I _think_ you're the Avatar!" she shouted back. "I _think_ you're the reincarnation of someone _very_ important to me! But with all this uncertainty, I can't know for sure, now _can_ I?"

"But I can't remember!" he yelled. "I can't remember! Whatever we were, I've _died_ since then! I've been born again since then! I've lived sixteen unhappy years since then!"

"I _need_ you to remember!" the woman cried. "I _need_ you to remember what we were!"

"What _were_ we then?" Mizurou was on the verge of violence. "We were best friends, but what _else_ could we have been? Surely not anything else! Definitely not _lovers!_ He was a _monk! _It was _forbidden!_"

"The world couldn't know!" The old woman's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and surely she was at the brink of insanity. "You told me yourself, the world couldn't know! It all had to be a secret, you said! It was for my protection, you said! You said it, Aang!"

"_Aang!"_

His past life's name hit him like a ton of bricks, and he staggered backward, unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to process all of the memories that were flooding back to him now. Aang's – _his_ – entire life was flashing before his eyes. A storm, an iceberg, _blue eyes_, a flying bison, brother and sister, South Pole, North Pole, _blue eyes_, a tournament poster, the Blind Bandit, black hair, green eyes, clouded eyes, _blue eyes_, Kyoshi, a great wall, Ba Sing Se, earthly attachment, _blue eyes_, falling, failure, fire, honor, scars, invasion, reunion, a new life, a new family, birth, death, and rebirth, _blue eyes, _water, earth, fire, air, and water again –

"_Katara …"_

The name fell from his lips as he fell to his knees, tears flooding his eyes. The name … he knew it well, and it felt so sweet on his lips. He looked up, up and into the beautiful blue eyes of the stranger before him who was not so strange anymore, now that he knew her name.

"Katara …"

She nodded, shaking slightly, and smiled. "You remember," she said, obviously relieved. "_Finally_, you remember …"

Mizurou nodded. "Yes," he said, his voice threatening to give out. "You're _all_ that I remember … Please don't make me remember any more …"

She shook her head. "No," she said. "No … that was enough," and she sat back down in her chair.

Mizurou swiped an arm across his eyes to wipe away the tears. The boy, the prince, the Avatar, was completely exhausted. Yet, there was strength left in him for one final question, the first question he'd asked that had never really been answered.

And so, he summoned what strength he had left and said, "Tell me, Katara … why are you here?"

Katara stared down at him, beaming, and her smile did not fade in the least when she answered him.

"I am here, Your Highness, to teach you everything you need to know about being the Avatar."

**

* * *

**

**A**

_-- ZD_


	2. Lessons learned

**REVELATiON**

_deux: __**l**__essons learned_

* * *

_I suppose it's alright to want, to wish, but what of taking? Is it action that condemns those thoughts? This is my line of thinking, so forgive me. There's just too much at risk …_

**-oOo-**

From somewhere on the other side of the palace library, a door swung open.

Prince Mizurou looked up from the book he was reading and watched as the woman who had just entered crossed the wide room in a few quick steps, not even bothering to take the time and enjoy its beauty. Most houseguests were struck with awe at the sight of the gleaming wood floor, on top of which rows and rows of intricately carved and completely filled bookshelves sat, towering high above them, barely touching the painted ceiling. From it, many golden candelabra's hung, set ablaze, filling the room with light. There were no windows, for such portals to the outside world were scarce in the polar village, anyway. Perhaps the villagers had never wanted to gaze upon the scenery more often than was absolutely necessary. The prince didn't blame them; it was a cold, dreary place. Part of him had always hated it.

The woman was hovering in front of him now, but Mizurou had long since returned to his reading. He didn't feel like initiating the inevitable conversation. Honestly, he was a little afraid to after the previous day's events. But after several moments had passed in silence without the woman moving and without the boy progressing to the next page, he decided something had to be done.

"You just do whatever you want, don't you?"

Despite his rudeness, the woman was not taken aback. Despite everything that had taken place the day before, she had expected no less from him. She had left him alone right after revealing her purpose without another word, and surely, as soon as she was out of sight, he had attempted cleared his head and continue with his sulking. As she had been laying in her extremely comfortable guest alone that night on the other end of the palace, she knew that he had been just as awake and just as alone as she, trying his best to forget again. This, she was certain of.

Still, she felt the need to say something unexpected in response. "Is that any way to treat your best friend?"

Mizurou winced. _This again?_ "Must I remind you that I'm _not him_?"

"Ah, but you _are_ him, so you might as well get used to it."

Before the boy lowered the book away from his face, Katara caught the title and smirked. _Sozin's Hundred-Year War_. At least he was somewhat interested in his past.

Mizurou rolled his eyes. "Yes, _Ma'am_," he said mockingly.

Katara ignored his comment. "I suppose you and I are both mentioned in that book you're reading."

The boy snapped the book shut. Then he paused for a split second before lowering his eyes back to the cover, examining it as if he had never seen it before, as if to say, "Oh, is _that_ what I was reading?" However, it wasn't long before he sighed and nodded. "Yes, you and _he_ are both mentioned in it, but _unfortunately_ for you, they make the two of you out as having absolutely no good qualities. In fact, according to the author, you and _Aang_ are entirely antagonistic."

Katara raised an eyebrow. Nowadays, she made a habit of letting nothing surprise her, but this fact caught her off guard. No one had ever looked upon her and Aang with anything less than admiration when the end of the century-long war was the topic, unless, of course—

Mizurou turned the book around so that the front was visible to her, and that's when she noticed the faded red tint of the leather binding, the harsh lines of the characters that made up the title, and the hard-to-miss fire nation insignia on the bottom right corner.

"From the Imperial Fire Nation House of Records," he said. "First edition. Quite expensive. Dated right after the end of the war. The author, Fei Tse, was an Ozai loyalist who caused a bit of an uprising once. He stowed away on an Earth Kingdom ship that was exporting jasmine tea to the Fire Nation and, with the help of a few rogue Dai Li agents, made it all the way to Ba Sing Se and started a riot before the Fire Lord's forces caught up with him. He was a wanted man, wanted for several things, but he was a good writer."

"Hmm." Katara tilted her head. "Any reason why you chose a book of _that_ perspective?"

"What makes you think a book by another author would be any less biased?" the boy said as he tossed the book into an adjacent pile of works with similar topics. Katara let her eyes wander to the stack, examining what he had been reading. "The Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe opinions of those events are roughly the same, given the fact that they were fighting on the same side as the Avatar and towards the same goal. Being royalty and having grown up in the latter of the two, obviously, these opinions and versions of events have been engrained into my head by my private history tutors practically since birth. It was about time I got my hands onto something different. So, I took the initiative and bought it. Amazing what money can do, isn't it?"

The woman frowned as she slowly walked toward the pile of books and began gently pushing those on top aside, as if looking for something. Mizurou watched her the entire time, concentrating on her every movement, on every flick of her wrist, on every shift of her feet or hips, on her neck as she turned her head. He wasn't quite sure where this slight obsession with her was coming from, or why he felt so calm when his heart rate was speeding up and his palms were surely getting sweaty. It was strange, this feeling coming over him, these emotions that were slowly bottling up as if something foreign and dangerous was inside him, longing to get out. When his eye began to twitch annoyingly, the prince decided he absolutely could not sit in silence any longer, and once again he broke it.

"So, what amazing, fancy, _'new' _waterbending tricks have you come here to teach me, _Master?_ You said that was why you were here, after all."

Katara paused and turned to the teen. "Actually, Your Highness, I said nothing of the sort. I said that my purpose was to teach you everything you needed to know about being the Avatar, and seeing as you are already a waterbending master, and I have not won any special award for being the first non-Avatar to control more than one element, that could hardly include a lesson on bending, could it?"

The young prince grunted. He had been so overwhelmed with the urge to speak to her just seconds earlier that he had not caught the stupidity in his statement. Now that he was feeling more like his normal self again, he was determined not to make a similar error. "Well, why _did_ you come here, then? Surely you didn't just come to tell me a story …"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Katara said with a smile as she reached down and pulled a blue velvet ottoman out from underneath the prince's feet, letting them fall to the ground with a thud and forcing the boy to sit more upright. After seating herself, she said, "I came to tell you the story of your life as Aang, or at least what I know of it." She crossed her legs and folded her arms in her lap. "Now," she said, "where to start …"

Mizurou, temporarily putting aside the fact that he absolutely _hated_ these kinds of stories, rolled his eyes once more and said, "How about you start at the beginning?"

Katara shook her head. "No," she said, "that's not a good place. Besides, it seems you already know that much." She waved her hand at the reorganized pile of books beside Mizurou's chair, on top of which now sat a book titled _Biography of Avatar Aang_. A slender black bookmark was sticking out of it, having been placed a few pages in. "I encourage you not to read any more of that, by the way," she continued. "Much of it isn't true, and what I tell you will have absolutely no significance if your head is filled with nonsense. No," she repeated, "the beginning is not a good place to begin. A good place to begin is about a year later, around the time that book by Fei should end."

The prince frowned and, his brows furrowed, his lips pursed, his arms folded tightly across his chest, he fell back into a more comfortable position. "Enlighten me."

**-oOo-**

It was all over, but nothing could have stopped the tears from falling.

She had watched it happen. She had seen him rise up into the air, a long-absent glow present in his eyes as the Avatar State took control of him one last time. She had held on as tight as she possible could to the frame of the throne room doorway as hurricane-force winds had sent debris flying every which-way and a blinding white light filled the room to its capacity.

The deed was done. The world fell silent as the light faded and the dark, scorched room became visible once more. There were no more screams, no more shouts, only a single, dreadful _thud_ sounded as two lifeless bodies came crashing to the ground.

And then, an ear-splitting cry of, _"Aang!"_

The fifteen-year-old girl had dashed across the room, leaping over the first, larger body to fall beside the smaller second. She lifted him up by his shoulders and proceeded to shake him, thinking that somehow, someway, her actions would snap him out of unconsciousness.

"Aang, _please_," she pleaded. "Please, _please_ wake up …"

But it was no use. He was gone, completely gone, and nothing, not even the cries of his dearest friend could bring him back.

And so she had pulled him up to rest against her chest, cradling him in her arms, holding him close, one fragment of her shattered heart wanting, for some reason, to protect him against further harm while another still clung to the hope that any second now, he'd open his eyes, wrap his arms around her neck, and tell her everything was going to be alright.

Still, she knew deep down that it would never be so.

As the tears continued to seep out from beneath her closed eyelids and the sobs continued to wrack her body, she couldn't help but reminisce about the times when her best friend had still been alive. She remembered his smile, his laugh, his touch, and his kiss. Yes, most of all, she remembered the one time he had dared to place his soft lips upon hers. Perhaps this was why it hurt so much. Of course, she knew that his death would have been painful to her anyway, but that one moment in time made the loss that much worse.

It was appropriate, she thought, that she had never felt more _dead_ inside, and _his_ life was flashing before her eyes.

Some moments later, strong arms had pried the Avatar's body gently from her grip and another pair, belonging to her brother, had pulled her weak self into a loving embrace. Eventually, her sibling had coaxed her to her feet and led her down a long hallway and outside a ways, but her eyes remained fixed, yet not focused, on her feet.

Finally, she was lead inside another building, a door was closed behind her, and her brother released his hold on her. After having stood alone on wobbly legs for a moment, she allowed herself to look up. Not far away, surrounding a low bed on three sides, were Water Tribe healers and soldiers, friends and acquaintances, Toph, Haru, Teo, and others. Her eyes fell immediately on the body of her deceased friend, lying peacefully on the bed, his eyes closed. He was completely devoid of life, yet he looked so much like he had only just fallen asleep.

_Oh, why does it have to be this way?_

She had just stood there, staring at him, for the longest time. Her eyes remained dry as she watched, for she felt as if she could cry no more tears. Then, a gentle hand on her shoulder had awakened her. She turned her head to the side to come face to face with her brother, who was smiling sadly.

_How dare he smile at a time like this?_

"Here," he'd said, holding a short, folded piece of parchment out to her. "We found it tucked in his robes. I … I think it's meant for you to read."

The girl blinked once as she stared at the note being offered to her before she took it in her own shaking hands. It was slightly burnt around the edges, and in the middle of it, in quick, messy handwriting, was written _When I'm Gone_.

One look at those words was all it had taken to send her over the edge.

Dropping the piece of parchment, the girl had dashed over to her best friend's body and collapsed on top of him, sobbing into his chest as she kneeled, her hands splayed just in front of where her head rested. He was cold and dead beneath her, but that didn't stop her from yelling at him as if he could still hear her.

"Why did you do this to me, Aang? _Why?_" she cried. "How could you be so foolish, so stupid? Didn't you know what this would do to us? To me? How could you? How _could_ you? We went through _so much_ together!"

His robes were soaked beneath her face, her tears having been relentless. She gripped his shirt tighter, and then she added, so no one else in the room could hear—

"We … we might even have been in _love_ …"

The moment the words escaped her lips, she knew something inside of her had changed. She suddenly felt a released, as if bottled-up emotions had been released or a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt lighter, fuller, and strangely confidant, though of what she could not guess. Slowly, she lifted her head up, and it was then that she noticed something spectacular.

His shirt was dry, her hands were hovering above his heart, and they were _glowing_.

An audible gasp was uttered by every person in the room as they realized what was taking place. Katara's hands had begun to heal an invisible wound on their own. Sokka stepped forward to join Katara at the side of the bed, his eyes wide as he, too, took in this incredible sight. Katara slowly rose to her feet, careful not to disturb the placement of her hands as she continued to heal … or, at least, she hoped she was healing.

Then, she felt the cold beneath her fingers begin to melt away as Aang's skin began to warm. She could feel the water inside of him ease along in his blood vessels, slow at first, and then progressively faster. And she swore that she yelped and jumped a foot into the air when she felt the tiniest _thump_ under her palms, causing all of those around her to mirror her actions.

He had a _pulse_ …

Quickly, her head turned to the side, as did everyone else's, and her gaze fell upon his pale face. She watched the color return to his cheeks, watched his brows furrow ever so slightly.

And that's when his eyes fluttered open.

Instantly, his gaze locked with Katara's, and he smiled weakly. In a hoarse voice, he asked, "How long was I out?"

Loud cheering from the background, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and lips pressed to his quickly-reddening cheek were all he got for an answer.

**-oOo-**

"So you brought the Avatar back to life, did you?" Mizurou asked in a dull tone, trying not to give away how impressed he really was with this old woman's story.

The woman shrugged her shoulders. "I don't think you were ever really dead. Not completely, anyway," she said, though she sounded a little bit confused by her own wording. She shrugged again and added, "We'll call it 'spiritual overload' for the time being, and for lack of a better title." Then she laughed. "You had a very bad habit of scaring people like that. The day you defeated Fire Lord Ozai was not the first time you pulled such a stunt. How could we ever forget the events of Ba Sing Se …?"

The prince grunted. "Even I know that story," he said.

Katara nodded. "Yes, well, Azula didn't really try to keep it quiet, did she? Still, she did pass the credit on to someone else … That girl wasn't stupid you know."

The woman then stood, pushed the ottoman back toward the slouching prince, and turned as if to head back toward the door. The prince, not expecting this from her, sat upright immediately and leaned forward. A part of him didn't want her to leave.

"W-wait!" he called after her, ashamed of the way he'd faltered. In a more confident, superior tone, he added, "I mean, after all of that fuss yesterday, that's _all_ you're going to tell me?"

Katara, without turning back around to face him, replied, "For now, anyway." A genuine was evident in her voice as she said, "Relax. The rest can wait another day. Besides, we've got all the time in the world."

And, with that, she left him alone.

* * *

**AL**

_-- ZD_


End file.
